As Days Fade
by aylaa
Summary: a mists of avalon piece, lancelet contemplates his life, the mistakes he has made and his relationships with the women in his life (updated, detypoed:))


As the days fade, so do our lives and memories..  
  
Lancelet was dying. He felt it in his bones, and his vague sense of the Sight had long foretold this day would be soon. He sighed, and walked around the courtyard of the monastery. After his long years of fighting and struggles, the life of a holy man suited him well. It gave him the time to reflect on the past, and contemplate how everything ended. Not just ended, but ended with seemingly everything gone.  
  
After Arthur's death, and Mordred's too, he reminded himself, Britain was again thrown into turmoil it had not seen since the days before Uther. Each kingdom rallied for power, and there was not yet still a united lordship over the land. Lancelet sighed again, his son Galahad should be King now, but the Goddess, God, whichever higher power, saw it fit that his life must be so short. He had not known the boy very well, a life of fighting had saw to that, and even at his darkest hour, had never loved his mother, Elaine. He longed now for a life that should have been his, with grandchildren at his feet, listening to his stories and tugging at his beard. Lancelet almost heard Morgaine's voice, calmly telling him that the Goddess works in mysterious ways. _Morgaine.. was she still alive?_ Ever since he had brought Arthur and Mordred to Avalon, and saw the image of his mother in her, he had feared returning. Still, she was the only one alive, the only one that still remembered Camelot's glory.   
  
The crisp winter air cut through his lungs as he breathed in; still, the pain was a welcome reminder of reality. The brothers had pleaded with him not to go out, soft snow was still falling, but Lancelet had insisted, he would be gone soon, so what was a slight chill to him? Brushing off flakes of snow that had landed on his plain coarse tunic, Lancelet sat down on a stone bench at the edge of the courtyard and indulged himself with more memories of the past. His earliest memory was of Avalon. How the sun looked when it rose and cast rays of light over the mist climbing the ring stones, the view from the Tor, and the sheer beauty of nature living in harmony. Then, his mother, Viviane.. the living embodiment of the Goddess. Even as a child, before he was able to comprehend that she was just his mother, she was always the one that controlled everything. The sun must rise and set each day because of her, the tides rise and fall because of her, everyone and everything seemed to do her bidding, including him. Lancelet had feared this controller of fate and fortune, she was not a loving Goddess, as a child he did not have a mother to comfort him or lull him to sleep. But Morgaine was always there for him.   
  
Ah yes, Morgaine. Even as a child, she was serious and solemn. Still, she was the closest thing he had to a playmate, as she was the only other child fostered on the island. He was lonely, and ran after her, together they did what all children do, played, fought and argued. In the end, Viviane had exerted her power and sent him to be fostered with his father and half brothers in Less Britan. Lancelet only saw Morgaine once after, she was very absorbed with some intense part of her training, before their fateful day on the Tor.   
  
It was many years later; Lancelet had come back to Avalon a young man with blood on his hands, and memories that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Viviane must have sent Morgaine to attend to him, instead of doing so herself. How he resented her at that time, his own mother felt herself too good to come on the barge to meet him. Morgaine had changed very little during their time apart, she had grown scarcely any taller and her face was what Viviane's must have been when she was young. Still, he was overwhelmed by the glamour of the Avalon priestess, the way in which she held herself, to immediately recognize that this was the cousin he had played with so many years ago.  
  
When she spoke, he remembered how rich her voice was, the very tone and pitch. She was truly beautiful, not like many of the maidens who pinched their cheeks and bit their lips in vain attempts to vie for his attention. Perhaps he was already biased, she looked so like his mother, whom he had loved and feared for so long. After his uncomfortable meeting with Viviane, Lancelet and Morgaine set off, to rediscover the isle of Avalon. She was unlike any other young woman he had known, she was learned, honest and did not talk of petty things such as gossip from the royal courts.   
  
Glancing up at the sky, he saw it was nearing midday. The light from the sun glittered off the snow, and Lancelet was reminded of another sunlit day, many years ago. She had climbed the Tor must faster then he, and was smiling slyly when he finally made his way to the top to collapse promptly beside her. He had never been so happy in his life than on that sunlit day, when he and Morgaine laid together on the Tor. Had she not been pledged to the Goddess, then how everything may have been different. Lancelet's mind gave him a picture of a world that might have been, with Morgaine as his wife, where Gwenhyfar loved Arthur and only Arthur, his never to be born children, small and dark, faerie born like their parents.  
  
Together,they laid in each other's arms, the power from the ring stones wrapping them in a warm sense of security. Nothing could touch them at that moment in time, and it would be forever ingrained into the memories of the two star crossed lovers. Lovers they would never be, but at that moment, they were one, and nothing would ever be able to erase the memory of their two minds touching and hearts beating as one.  
  
Shortly after, both he and Morgaine first met Gwenhyfar. She was truly beautiful, with her golden blonde hair, pale complexion, delicate blue eyes and soft pink lips. Gwenhyfar must have been everything Morgaine had wanted to be, as he remembered how tense the atmosphere was between the two young women. Lancelet laughed to himself, how he wish he could have told Morgaine that her beauty and Gwenhyfar's were no match, Morgaine was royal in both blood and nature, she was destined to rule over the land, while Gwenhyfar, although beautiful, was not regal. Of course, the Goddess had a dark sense of irony and had placed Gwenhyfar in the role of High Queen, while Morgaine lived much of her life in various states of exile.   
  
Stretching his legs, Lancelet rose from the bench and strolled around the courtyard once more. How beautiful it was in the summer when he had arrived. Herbs and flowers grew side by side, both thriving from their close proximity. If only people were like that, he had first thought when he saw the garden. Time seemed to move more slowly in the monastery, there was never any hurry or rush to have anything done, unlike his previous life, where a blink of the eye could mean life or death. He did not complain, in his old age, this simple life suited him well, and left him feeling more peaceful than in a long time. Most of all, he could think back now, and impartially see the mistakes he had made throughout his life.  
  
Lancelet knew now, he saw now with clarity his younger, more foolhardy self could have never seen. It was Morgaine who he truly loved, not Gwenhyfar, never Gwenhyfar. She had been his childhood playmate, his first love, his confidant, the one who tended to him when he was sick or wounded, the muse that sang and enchanted him with her music, and the one who had the face of the Goddess. Why did he keep deluding himself with Gwenhyfar, and even Elaine when Morgaine was clearly who he held most dear?  
  
She did indeed have the face of a Goddess, but she shared that with his mother. All his life, his mother had never showed very much affection for him. "_Was I afriad that she would do the same?_" Lancelet asked himself. It was irrational, he reflected now, she was always a loving cousin, she did not show it, but she would never hurt anyone she loved. Morgaine even loved Gwenhyfar, if only Gwenhyfar could see past her religion and realize that her sister-in-law truly loved and respected her. But Gwenhyfar was foolish, like himself. Their first meeting was mistake; she was young, younger than himself. She must have done what baby ducks do, imprint themselves on the first thing they see, and follow them around for life. Gwenhyfar's enduring love may have just have been an instinct. She was lucky to have married Arthur, whom she did not meet her prior to their marriage. He never raised his voice and her, or sent her away for failing to bear him an heir. "_She repaid him by forcing him to confess sins to clear her own conscience, and had his sister, his beloved sister shut away in an unhappy marriage._" Lancelet thought bitterly to himself. How could he have pined after such a selfish and foolish woman as Gwenhyfar?  
  
"_Arthur loved Gwenhyfar, as she loved me. Yet all that time, he longed for Morgaine, even though she had desired me._" Lancelet thought bitterly. Yet his closest friend had never once held any resentment and bitterness between them. When Morgaine forced the marriage between himself and Elaine, she was right, between he and Gwenhyfar, we would have broken Arthur's heart. Gwenhyfar never forgave Morgaine for that, and saw to it that she was soon placed into another unhappy marriage. Viviane must have been spinning in her Christian tomb, a high priestess of Avalon, pushed into a marriage at the whim of her sister-in-law.   
  
He supposed now, no matter how loveless the marriage would be, Morgaine had already accepted it. Lancelet long ago realized that sometimes the Goddess works in strange ways, but the will of the Goddess is always right, so we must accept it. All her life, she had lived under the control of others. First, her own mother gave her to Viviane. Viviane used her ruthlessly, like she used everything, even her own sister and nephew. The Goddess did work in mysterious ways, as she had at least sent someone who Morgaine could love to be with her. Accolon was probably the only thing that kept her from self-distructing, having been rejected by the rest of her kin. Lancelet had learned that Arthur killed him, foiling Morgaine's plan to give the power back to the old royal line. "_Had Arthur known the depth of their relationship, he would have killed Accolon for touching Morgaine._" Or perhaps he would have just out of jealously, the jealously of seeing his first and dearest love loving someone more than him. "_She had to turn to someone, even the toughest flower needs sunlight to grow, what did you expect of her? Mindlessly accept the fact that she should be happy given the fact that she was the wife of a man who could be her father?_"  
  
"_Arthur was too kind, he forgave and forgot, even when Gwenhyfar and I broke his heart._" Lancelet's mood sobered as he remembered how he and Gwenhyfar had started an affair, despite the fact that it must have hurt Arthur deeply. At least they had the grace not to flaunt it. Lancelet laughed and shook his head. His sense of honor had prevented him from saying anything. Gwenhyfar had openly flaunted it to her serving woman and carried herself around as if she was mightier then ever. What a hypocritical woman, she was Christian and believed herself to be pious, yet she would openly admit that the bed she shared was not with a man that was her husband. That time and their actions were all lies; Mordred's public unveiling of the adultery had almost been salvation.  
  
Had he ultimately caused the death of Arthur and Mordred? He was part of the guilty party that had divided the kingdom. "_How could I allow my best friend to die, because of my stupidity?_" Lancelet bitterly thought. Morgaine must have understood, she always understood. Even when she held her beloved baby brother who was dying in her arms, she did not once accuse him. Her upbringing made her strong, stronger then any of us could hope to be. Seeing her dark eyes, filled with sadness after that, quietly accepting the deaths of her only brother and son, Lancelet could not bear to ever face her again. He was a villain, not even a misunderstood character, and he no longer belonged. He had hurt the only person left that still loved him, and had always loved him. The safest place for his conscience was a monastery, no longer could he hurt anyone he held close. Living there may have been a lie, but this was what he deserved.   
  
The tolling bells broke Lancelet out of his reverie. He heard the steps of someone approaching him and whirled around, out of a lifetime of habit. A younger monk had been sent to retrieve him. It was time for his ceremony. Today, he would be made a father. Father Galahad, how Viviane would have laughed, or been angry, or both. She was gone now, just like everyone else. The only thing that was left was their memories.  
  
  
  
  
  
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AN; changed all the unsightly mistakes, added a little more (I felt that the end was rather rushed). If you enjoyed this fanfic, please, write another Mists of Avalon piece, I'm rather disappointed that there are so few available!  
  
I am currently brewing another Mists of Avalon fanfic, it concerns Gwenhyfar, her stupidity and follies, and how despite it all, she was really a very integral part of the story. Any beta readers interested? 


End file.
